


If You Can't Stand The Heat...

by sallyamongpoison



Series: Menu du Jour [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cooking Lessons, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 02:18:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallyamongpoison/pseuds/sallyamongpoison
Summary: In which there is a cooking class, pining, and and meeting the right person under less than ideal circumstances.





	If You Can't Stand The Heat...

The one time. The one time in his life that he tried to not be so fucking detached and  _ plan _ something that could be a little silly and fun, and most certainly a  _ date _ and this happened. Of course it did. Why wouldn’t it? Maybe...maybe he’d been expecting too much. Even something that was literally just a one afternoon commitment was too much. Everything before that had been easy and breezy. They never made plans. They never bothered with labels. It was just a phone call or a text saying  _ ‘free tonight? ;)’ _ or some shit and maybe dinner at the most. This was what Dorian got for trying to put in just a little more effort.

He was trying not to be bitter. Well other than the fact that he was out an extra sixty bucks for the second ticket he’d bought, but he was trying not to let it get to him. He’d been stood up before. Had stood others up before. It was just a part of life, and his not-boyfriend couldn’t be held responsible. They both had jobs and lives, and who was Dorian kidding with something so inherently domestic? There should have been alarms blaring in his ears the minute he clicked on the link from his phone and got this stupid idea.

A cooking class.

It basically screamed “I want to move in and cook meals together and argue over towels and bedding” for the Maker’s sake. What had he been thinking? He didn’t  _ do  _ that. Dorian Pavus ordered takeout, went to the most trendy restaurants, and certainly didn’t think about standing shoulder to shoulder while they made a nice meal together in his kitchen. He...didn’t. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to share a glass of wine while something incredibly fragrant cooked. He didn’t want to share those little smiles and flirt a bit while they fed each other little bits to taste.

And certainly Rilienus had thought the same because the message Dorian woke up to that morning just said  _ ‘sorry. Cant today. Have to go to mom and dads to do something’ _ which was abjectly ridiculous. Dorian knew it, too. He also knew that Rilienus knew it. Yet they would never talk about it again, and Dorian would just have to force back down the idea that maybe there could be something  _ more _ there. More than just drinks. More than just falling into bed. More than  _ ‘wdy? Still up?’ _ texts at ten at night. 

At first he planned to just skip the whole thing and eat the cost of the two tickets. Fuck it, right? What did it matter? Learning how to perfectly cook lamb cutlets, Antivan style potatoes, a spicy dipping sauce, and a jam tart with a lattice crust was a waste of time. He’d scoffed at the idea. Turned his nose up at it as he tossed his phone across the bed and silently  _ did not _ seethe about it. He could just stay home. He could stay home, order in, and not go to that class by himself. After all, it was labeled as a Date Night Classic. One did not go to a Date Night Classic cooking class alone. Maker, he should have thought of that before he’d sent the email confirmation to Rilienus. They’d never called anything they did a ‘date’ in the two years they’d known each other. No wonder he practically ran screaming. Dorian would have if he hadn’t been the one to plan it.

Maybe.

Thought there was something rolling in his gut: regret. Disappointment, perhaps more pointedly. Dorian had genuinely been excited about it, despite himself, and the fact that even just the slightest bit of interest beyond something casual would wreck it was disheartening. It would have been nice to do all those things together. It would have been fun and like maybe something could grow from there. Except...well, Rilienus probably wasn’t the one he should expect to grow with. In Dorian’s heart of hearts, despite what he wanted to tell himself about his own personality, there maybe was that desire to do something a bit more domestic. Of course he denied it because it was easier and safer to, but he’d spent a good four days envisioning what it might be like to have someone there who just wanted to have fun and do something just for the sake of enjoying his company. Even if it was just cooking a meal together.

Fuck it all. He would...he would go. Right? Just go. What did it matter if he went on his own? He could learn to make something fabulous and not even have to share. That would serve every last arsehole in Thedas right that Dorian Pavus could cook a wonderful meal and not share it with any of them because all they cared about was getting into his pants. Okay, well, most specifically  _ one _ arsehole but there were plenty of them just like him to make him feel justified.

So he got up, showered, and dressed. Dorian dressed like this really was a date. And maybe it was. A date for one. A date with himself. He didn’t have to be there until three, so that gave him plenty of time to pamper himself, and pick out an outfit that just made him feel...good. Really good. Simple as it was, and perhaps a weird blend of casual and formal for the event itself, Dorian felt good. A black and white striped t-shirt with black pants, a vest in a fawny-brown/grey colour, a denim jacket, and (most importantly) his favorite tie. This was what he needed. And tying that tie, a black silk covered in delicately stitched white roses, just made him feel better. This was going to be a good date. A good date with himself. 

When he got there it was difficult not to roll his eyes, though. Three sets of couples clung together as they perused the menu for the class, and Dorian felt just a little pang inside his chest. But no matter. He was there to learn something for himself and do something fun. No amount of watching the others hold hands and coo or kiss each other on the cheek as they laughed was going to ruin his day. Dorian squared his shoulders, pulled out his phone, and just...waited. No one else but him mattered, especially since everyone else in the class seemed to be paired off together anyway.

Except...well, except one.

They were shown in by the instructors, actual chefs wearing aprons and white hats, to a back room in the kitchen store where there were chairs set up lecture-style and a few stations made up along the opposite wall. It was bigger than Dorian expected, but with there being about ten people they would have enough space to not be bumping into one another. Everyone took a seat, including Dorian, and he looked around as his fellow classmates before his gaze landed on another man all on his onesie. Surprising. Dorian cocked his head to the side as he watched the man sit just a ways off from everyone else and reach into the pocket of the bag he brought to pull out...a pen and paper. 

So clearly he’d done this before. Huh. Interesting.

The beginning of the class was pretty much everything Dorian expected. They went over the menu, talked a little bit about how they curated it and what materials they’d be using. He was listening, because when fire and knives were going to come out he liked to at least be somewhat prepared, but every so often he couldn’t help but cast a glance to the side to where the other single man was rather furiously taking notes. Dorian could hear his pen scratching, and as they instructors talked he was nodding his head as he wrote his notes.

Normally Dorian wouldn’t so much care about what someone else was doing, but this  _ was _ another single person in a Date Night cooking class. Had he been stood up too? Or, more than likely, this was some guy trying to earn brownie points somewhere. Dorian could only imagine that this tall, blond, and rather muscular guy had some pretty thing at home that he wanted to dazzle with his cooking skills. Something about that made his insides twist, and Dorian bit a little at his lip. There would probably never be some handsome thing waiting for him at home that would be amazed at his ability to grill and season and bake. Other than himself, of course. So he was trying to focus on that and not the way that the man a few seats off to the side of him was writing while looking entirely too handsome in his jeans and...ugh, flannel shirt.

His mind had been wandering just a little too much, though, and he missed where the instructors invited everyone to stand and come up to the cooking station. Dorian got to his feet, headed over, and slotted between two of the others as one of the instructors was going over the seasoning blend for the lamb. It certainly smelled amazing, and Dorian rested a hand on the counter as he watched the younger elf woman in the tall white hat point at various small dishes of herbs and spices that they were going to be playing with for both the lamb and potatoes. Okay, so maybe this really had been a good idea. It was a good thing to learn some of this for himself and not from some over-written food blog that took eight pages just to get to the fucking recipe. This was in real time. This was...well, in case he completely fucked up there was someone there who could help him get it back on track. Right? Right. 

It was a lengthy discussion, a few questions here and there by some of the others, but rather informative and quite interesting. Dorian had never so much cared about how the food was made, so long as it tasted good, but it was certainly something to hear how it all fell into place. But then...the practical portion. Everyone was given an apron to wear and shown to their predetermined cooking station that had already been set up with all the ingredients and materials they’d need to make this work. And Dorian stood at his...alone. 

“Are you...alone, Mr. Pavus?” the instructor asked, “your ticket said for two.”

“Funny thing, uh...my...cooking partner couldn’t make it,” Dorian answered, and licked his lips, “but I’m more than happy to have a go at it on my own.”

The instructor cocked her head to the side, watched him for a moment, then turned to look over her shoulder, “Well...it’s easier with two, is all. And if you don’t mind we’ve got another person who’s here by himself. It’ll cut down on ingredients, and...you know…”

Oh. Well. Dorian blinked and followed that look over her shoulder to the blond man in the flannel that had been taking such furious notes before. He looked...well, not so much out of place in the class but awkward in that this woman was coming up to Dorian and asking them to partner up. Dorian recognized that look from a fair few times it happened back in school. Embarrassing, really. And, honestly, his own stomach did a bit of a flip at the prospect of having to actually cook with someone else that he hadn’t planned on.

But this felt like less of a question and more of a statement.

He smiled, “I mean, I...guess?” 

“Great!” the instructor cheered before she waved the other man closer, “Uh, Cullen this is…”

“Dorian,” he supplied. The last thing he wanted was literally anyone calling him Mr. Pavus. Not like this, anyway. “We’re all friends here, right...Cullen, was it?”

The blond nodded and held out a hand, “Cullen Rutherford.” His voice was low and soft, just a little on that gritty side that was so incredibly sexy, and came out with a Fereldan lilt. Of course he was Fereldan. The blond hair, pale skin...flannel. Dorian should have guessed. He could also guess that there was probably at least one dog at home alongside his probably also very Fereldan girlfriend for whom he’d be making this fabulous meal.

At that, they were left alone together at the cooking station, and Dorian tugged a bit at the tie of his apron as he tried to get his footing again. This wasn’t exactly how he wanted to do this, but there weren’t exactly a lot of options. Beside him, Cullen was flipping back through the notes he’d taken, and when he looked up Dorian was surprised to see that his eyes were a warm honey colour. He hadn’t noticed that before.

“So we should start on the potatoes,” Cullen said, and nodded toward the small pile of them in a bowl beside the cooktop, “you want to cut them up or make the seasoning mix?”

Well. Down to business then. “Um, I don’t mind cutting them,” Dorian answered, “just try not to judge my knife skills.”

One of Cullen’s eyebrows cocked for that, and Dorian could feel him watching as he grabbed for the potatoes and started to roughly chop them into a rustic-style medium dice. That was the best way to have roasted potatoes, after all. He just couldn’t shake the fact that he could  _ feel _ Cullen watching him, even while the man was diligently measuring each of the spices into a small bowl.

“You know, usually I just eyeball it,” Dorian commented, “but I guess that’s why I’m here. To...learn from the professionals.”

A soft chuckle. Dorian could have sworn he felt it in the air more than he heard it come up from Cullen’s chest, and there was something so...so…

_ Lovely Fereldan girlfriend at home. Dog. Possibly multiple dogs. Stop being an idiot. _

He shook his head again. Cullen was speaking, and Dorian had to set the knife down before he could look back up at him. He’d missed the first part of whatever it was Cullen had been saying, but he came back to it when he heard “it’s just nice to be able to come home and make something nice for myself..”

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, “I mean, I don’t cook all  _ that _ often, but when I do I’d rather it be more than just stir fry or...cereal.”

He heard a snort then, and looked over as Cullen shook his head, “Those late nights when you can’t be bothered?”

“You mean like most days that end in -y?” Dorian supplied, “Yes. Those late nights.”

“So...this is for...someone?”

Dorian paused in what he was doing for that. The way Cullen spoke, the tone he used, it was that sort of meandering question that sounded a whole lot like he already knew the answer. And yet he didn’t. Then again, Dorian had made that same assumption just looking at Cullen too. “Isn’t that the whole point?” he asked, “date night fancy lamb?”

“Or that these classes are cheaper around a holiday. Groupon and that kind of thing, right?”

He blinked. Dorian really hadn’t considered that. “Would that make you a...bargain hunter?” he asked as he picked the knife back up and set to finishing up the potatoes so he could toss them in the metal bowl that was waiting for them to land in. 

“Gives me something to do,” Cullen answered as he finished measuring out the last of the spices and leaned back against the counter, “and something to learn. They kind of know me here. I take a lot of these classes.”

Potatoes chopped, Dorian scooped them up with his hands to put them in the bowl and he looked over his shoulder at Cullen, “budding chef?” he asked. Or just cooking enthusiast. Some people actually liked to use the kitchen for the thing it was designed for, after all. Instead of a take-out leftovers housing establishment, anyway.

Cullen shrugged, and set to sprinkling half of the spice mixture over them, just as the recipe had said to do. He did it with that sort of meticulous way a chef might. Or, at least, like someone who read the recipe might. Dorian read recipes. He liked recipes. He also just liked to do whatever he thought sounded good, and ignore them completely once he thought he got the gist of it. It was almost strange to be standing shoulder to shoulder with someone like that. Not bad, of course. Just strange. Not at all how he’d pictured today going.

Had Rilienus shown up he probably wouldn’t have done a damn thing. In fact, Dorian could picture the man leaned against the counter, phone out, and not paying at all attention as he scrolled through his messages and completely ignored whatever it was Dorian was doing. It was such a vivid image in his mind that Dorian almost couldn’t separate it from reality, and he jumped a little as Cullen took the bowl from him and set to tossing the potatoes in it to coat them with the spices.

“Well, I guess it helps to learn something,” he said finally, “I mean, you know...go home and show it all off. Date night, I guess, since this is what this is supposed to be for, isn’t it?” 

“That might require having someone to cook said Date Night meal for,” Cullen pointed out, “ah, I need...in the oven.” Which Dorian was in the way off. 

Dorian took a step back, let Cullen bend down with the sheet pan in one hand and the other on the oven door so he could open it, and dusted his hands off on his apron. As Cullen bent over he couldn’t help but lean back slightly and watch. He hadn’t meant to, honestly, but those jeans hugged Cullen’s backside in a very inviting way as he moved. Grey eyes widened just a bit as he realized what he was doing, and Dorian licked his lips once before he took another step back and gently ran a hand along the short hair of his undercut and down along the knot of his tie.

When Cullen was vertical again, Dorian closed those two steps back he’d taken so he was at the counter and offered a small smile. Something about this was disarming. Maybe it was the ambient noise of the others talking and laughing. Maybe it was the, perhaps imagined, intimate nature of cooking a meal together. Maybe it was the fact that Dorian was doing something very out of his normal. Everything about this from the time he’d booked the tickets to this very moment was out of his element. People said that was a good thing, to get out of his element, but something about it just felt like he was on the back foot. 

Or it was the fact that Cullen was very handsome and not at all a bore to talk to. That’s what Dorian had wanted, after all. He’d wanted some nice day, some nice cooking class, with a man very much like Cullen. Someone who was interested. Engaged. Eager. Rilienus wasn’t going to be that person. Cullen was. And they were doing the exact thing Dorian wanted to be doing, and he was having  _ fun _ . Just...this wasn’t how he wanted to do it. With a stranger.

A hand on his arm jolted him from his thoughts. Maker, what he must look like with all the spacing out. Cullen was looking at him, and that hand on Dorian’s arm was warm. “You okay? Cullen asked, “looks like you were somewhere else for a minute.”

“No,” Dorian answered with a shake of his head, “no, I’m here. Very much here. Just thinking about...here, is all.”

One of Cullen’s eyebrows rose for that, though he didn’t say anything, and he turned to pick up the grill pan for the lamb. “Well, maybe try to be a little more  _ here _ here when the fire comes out?” Cullen asked. There was the ghost of a smirk on his face. “I’d hate to see that, uh...mustache go up in flames because you weren’t paying attention.”

“At least promise to put me out if it all goes wrong,” Dorian deadpanned as he moved to start picking out the things for the sauce, “I’m banking on you being my knight in flannel if it all goes pear shaped.”

That earned him a chuckle. Dorian could almost feel it reverberate between them. It was the kind of chuckle he expected to hear late at night, or perhaps early in the morning, after a bit too much wine and falling back into bed after a post-coital shower. That kind of chuckle. Familiar. Low. A feeling more than a sound. It made that little twist in his chest ache a little more.

Neither of them said anything for a bit as the lamb was seasoned and Dorian worked at getting the sauce started. Between the two of them, despite the fact that they’d known each other a whopping half hour by that point, they seemed to work well side by side. There was minimal knocking of elbows (and of the three times it happened Dorian thought that perhaps once was on purpose by Cullen) or tripping over one another’s hands to reach for things. Like a well oiled machine, really. Which, it seemed, some of the other couples were struggling with. One bowl had hit the floor a while ago, and as he cast a glance sideways he noticed that some of the others were talking in low, heated tones until one of the instructors came over to settle whatever it was they had been talking about. With Cullen, they just...worked. 

Then there was a hand on his chest, pushing him back just a little, “fire time,” Cullen said, then smiled, “watch yourself.”

In that moment Dorian could feel his heartbeat pick up. Not that he was scared of meat being put on a grill pan, that would be ridiculous, but that touch was something he’d never experienced. “My hero,” he said, and let the weight of Cullen’s hand push him back. 

The lamb hit the grill with a sizzle, and Dorian’s lips turned upward into a grin. There was something rewarding about that, after all. The whole room smelled amazing with the mix of food cooking, and despite his wariness earlier about it he really was having fun.

“Think I can let you go now?” Cullen asked, “or am I going to have to stand guard here?”

_ I wouldn’t complain _ .

“I think I’ll manage somehow,” Dorian pointed out, “unless you want this beautiful lamb to go un-sauced, I mean.”

“That, and I like to not have to do my day job on my time off.”

And that piqued Dorian’s interest. The way Cullen said it: nonchalant yet a little reserved, it interested him. “You protect people from hot pans on the regular?” he asked, “how well does that pay?”

That hand on his chest fell away and they were back to being shoulder to shoulder with Cullen babysitting the hot pan. Dorian could tell he was focused on it, though those brown eyes lifted to meet Dorian’s gaze after a moment. “Not this specifically,” Cullen answered, “I...I’m a firefighter. I guess I get a bit weird around people being around fire. Can’t help it.”

Oh. Well. That was certainly interesting.

“And suddenly the wanting to learn how to cook makes sense,” Dorian said, “dazzle your, uh...brigade? Is that the right word for it?”

Another smile from Cullen. Maker, it was a nice smile. There was a scar that bisected Cullen’s top lip, and when he smiled it was just...well, Dorian reckoned he’d read about smiled that could light up a room. Cullen’s did that. And with that halo of blond curls the man was like sunshine incarnate standing in front of him. Sunshine incarnate cooking a very impressive meal. It didn’t get better than that.

“Well, we...uh,” Cullen began then looked back down at the pain, “I don’t know, it’s kind of stupid. Just, yeah, we all cook. We have to when we work eighteen hour shifts, you know?”

“Nothing stupid about that.”

“No, I mean, that’s not stupid. Just the reason...I don’t want to bore you with it.”

This time it was Dorian’s eyebrows that rose, and he stopped stirring at the sauce he’d been working on so he could study Cullen’s face. “It’s not like we don’t have time,” he pointed out, “at least another six minutes until those are done, right?”

Cullen laughed and one hand moved to rub at the back of his neck, “Just, you know...we all cook. And we kind of do this thing every so often where we have this competition. Like Iron Chef? Or...whatever, sometimes we pick an ingredient or just make whatever we feel like and three of the guys judge and there’s a winner. I’m kind of the...champion, so I’m trying to learn some new things to take in. So I come to these things to learn new stuff.”

And that right there was probably a mental image Dorian never expected to have. But it worked. He could imagine Cullen standing there much like he was now- a bit awkward but full of pride. Was he one to enjoy the attention, Dorian had to wonder? Or was he shy? Dorian was betting on shy, but...well, Cullen had come to the class out of a competitive spirit. He was smiling too. He hadn’t noticed, but as Cullen spoke he was smiling right back at him. And not even in that coy and flirty way, either. A real smile. One that reached his eyes and everything. That was...new.

“Are you taking applications for judges?” Dorian asked, “because I could be free for that.”

“Yeah?” Cullen asked as he looked down at the timer on the stove and flipped the lamb. There was no hand on Dorian’s chest this time, but Cullen did move just a little to put himself a bit more between the grill and Dorian’s body as the flames flared up a bit. “Would you, uh... “ he turned to look Dorian up and down a bit before his gaze fell just below Dorian’s chin, “be wearing a special tie for such an occasion?”

One hand went to the tie he wore, and Dorian started laughing. Another laugh. A real laugh. One that ended with a bit of a snort, and he clamped a hand over his mouth to cover it before he chuckled again, “I was...in a bit of a way earlier. I wanted to dress up a bit for this, even if it was just for me. But I could if you wanted me to.”

“I might make that requirement.”

“So...this championship, right?” Dorian asked as they moved together again to finish off the sauce and mind the grill pan, “do you get something for it? A trophy? Crown maybe?”

And, completely seriously, Cullen turned to meet Dorian’s gaze, “We have one of those toy wrestling championship belts. One of the guys brought it in. I, uh...hang it in my locker and wear it when I cook.”

“I need to see this the next time it happens,” Dorian said, similarly seriously, “please.”

Cullen was quiet for just a bit after that. Focused. Or perhaps thinking, Dorian couldn’t tell. For just a moment he wondered if maybe that had been a step too far. They weren’t friends, after all. They’d just met. They’d just met because Dorian had been stood up. That wasn’t grounds for him to be inviting himself to things.

“I...sorry,” Dorian stammered, “that was presumptuous of me. Forget I said anything.”

“No,” Cullen replied with a shake of his head, “I, it’s...it’s fine. I think you’re the first person who didn’t laugh when I told them. I mean, outside of the other guys. But they’re in it too, you know?”

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t stuck his foot in his mouth. Too badly, anyway. But still, that didn’t excuse the fact that he’d just up and said something like they’d been friends for a while. And yet it had come so easily. Just like standing shoulder to shoulder in a kitchen had come easily. Dorian had never experienced that before. Then again, he tended to keep a lot of that separate. His more private, at home kind of life and his...social life very rarely, if ever, intersected. This thing with Rilienus had been an experiment that failed miserably.

And yet with Cullen, had things been different, it was a success like nothing Dorian had experienced before.

There was a lot of activity after that didn’t lend much to talking. As the meat rested and the potatoes finished in the oven, the tart needed to be made. Cullen handled the filling while Dorian rolled out the dough, cut it to make the lattice strips, and watched as Cullen moved with that same precision that he had before. Again, it was fun. Easy. They worked well together. And it was great except now there was flour all over everything.

“Er...Dorian?” 

He looked up to see Cullen staring at him. Smiling. 

“...yes?”

“You, uh, you have something…” he gestured at his face, “flour.”

One of Dorian’s hands lifted to wipe at his face, and Cullen’s smile only grew. Dorian looked down to see that his hands were also still covered in flour, and he sighed. He’d just made it worse, hadn’t he? “Great. That’s not embarrassing at all,” he grumped as he wiped at his face again with the back of his arm.

Cullen was chuckling again, and he grabbed one of the clean towels off the counter, “wait, wait...come here,” he said. Then he took a step closer, into Dorian’s space, and lifted the towel to wipe gently first at Dorian’s cheeks and then across his nose, “I’ll get it.”

And again, like before, Dorian could feel his heart start to pound again. Cullen was very close. He was closer than he’d been even when he’d had a hand on Dorian’s chest. This close, even above the smells of cooking food Dorian, he could smell the gentle waft of some fresh scented cologne. He could also feel the heat coming off the other man that didn’t seem to have a damn thing to do with the ovens or the grills. It was intimate. Very intimate. And Dorian let himself get lost in it just for a moment as Cullen brushed that towel over his face.

“There,” Cullen said after a moment, “I don’t think that powder shade is good for your skin tone.”

A scoff, then, and Dorian shook his head, “Could I lie and say the lighting in here was bad and I couldn’t tell what my colour was?”

“Maybe, but I think the pancake look went out about, oh...a hundred years ago?”

“Shame,” Dorian said, “I bet I could bring it back.”

“I bet you could,” Cullen agreed. He still hadn’t moved from where he was standing so close, and for a beat they were just...standing like that. Like the rest of the room didn’t exist and they were the only people there. It was just a beat, just a breath, but they were both in it and looking at each other. 

Then that beat ended and they both took a step back.

“I’ll, uh, get this crust on. We’re supposed to put it in after the potatoes finish,” Cullen said. There was a hint of pink on his cheeks that hadn’t been there before, and he was rubbing at his neck again with one hand.

“Right,” Dorian agreed, “I’ll...check those potatoes.”

His cheeks were warm in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. It was warm, what with all the ovens and grills and everything, but Dorian’s cheeks were warm for no other reason than Cullen had been in his space like that. Just that little moment, a few seconds at most, were more intimate than anything Dorian could remember with anyone else. It was a strange feeling, one that he didn’t so much want to meditate on as he opened the oven to check the potatoes with the tip of a knife to make sure they were both crispy on the outside and fluffy in the middle, and he sighed to himself before he half stood back up and reached for one of the mitts.

“Um,” he began, and leaned in to pull the pan out, “these are done.”

For his part, Cullen was carefully weaving the strips of dough Dorian had rolled out until they formed a rather nice looking lattice over the top of the tart. He turned, searched Dorian’s face for just a minute, then looked down at the pan Dorian was holding. “I’ll do the wash on this and we can put it in the oven,” he said, “it should be good, I think.”

“Okay, guys! I see that most of your mains are pretty much done and your putting dessert in the oven,” the instructor told them all, “feel free to serve yourselves up, sit down, and enjoy while those cook!”

Well, there was the Date Night portion of things. Dorian watched as the other couples served themselves plates and took a seat at one of the long tables with enough chairs to fit everyone. Even the ones who had been fighting before were smiling, and Dorian felt just a little twinge in his chest. He would have liked it if that could have been him. Though...Rilienus would never. He’d have been complaining that things were done and he wanted to go. Dorian knew that. And yet, despite the fact that he knew it he couldn’t help but want it anyway.

He was about to open his mouth, say something about...something. Dorian always managed to say something about something, but when he looked over at Cullen the man had already finished the wash on the dough and putting the tart in the oven. Thorough to the end, it seemed. Again, Dorian opened his mouth to say something, but Cullen turned and gestured to the resting lamb and tray of potatoes.

“Hungry?” Cullen asked.

He was. Of course he was. Being around all those amazing smells had made his stomach growl a couple of times already, and thankfully all the ambient noise had covered that up. Still. Cullen, at the very least, should be sitting down and enjoying this meal he made with someone special and not some random person he got asked to share a cooking class with. And again he felt that little twist in his chest.

It seemed he took a little too long to answer, though, because Cullen was already out of his apron and serving up two plates. He wasn’t shy about the portions either. That was probably the working in the firehouse thing, though. All those men burning tons of calories had to eat like wolves. Or lions. Something that ate a lot, anyway. 

With the two plates now full, Cullen turned and nodded toward the table that was now filled with the others who were tucking into the food they’d made. Dorian, however, didn’t move. He didn’t want to make any assumptions. Assumptions got him into trouble, had been what had gotten him there in the first place, and things had been going well enough with this complete stranger that Dorian didn’t want to fuck anything up any more than it already was.

“Shall we sit?” Cullen asked.

Again, Dorian just blinked a couple of times and let his mouth fall open so he could say something. He had no idea what exactly he was going to say, not without it coming off as flirtatious, so he was quiet for just a moment with his mouth hanging open. “Uh, yeah. Sure,” he managed, “that...that would be good.” He slipped the apron he wore off, laid it on the counter beside Cullen’s, and rocked back on his heels.

For his part, Cullen just smiled and headed over to the table where there were already sets of silverware laid out for those who were already enjoying the food. They sat, down near the end and away from the others, across from each other with a plate of amazing smelling food in front of both of them. Were this anywhere else, with maybe a bit of lower light and a glass of wine or two, this could have been a date. A very nice date at that.

Getting settled was a bit of an affair, despite the fact that they were away from the others. The long table was narrow, and Cullen’s legs were long. Their knees knocked a bit as they got comfortable, which made the light blush on Dorian’s cheeks darken. It was on purpose. He needed to remember that. It wasn’t as though Cullen was trying to touch him on purpose. Not. On. Purpose.

He tucked into the food, and was it ever good. Maker, it has to be the best lamb Dorian had ever had. It was cooked well, seasoned wonderfully, and tasted just...well, were he by himself he might have moaned a little after the first bite. “This...is amazing, “ he said once he’d swallowed.

“Yeah, we uh, we did a pretty alright job, huh?” Cullen answered before he reached for one of the carafes of water that had been set out so he could pour them each a glass. After they were full he set one down in front of Dorian’s plate, then lifted his up as though it were a toast, “it’s not champagne or anything, but to a job well done?”

“You did most of the heavy lifting,” Dorian pointed out, though he did pick up his glass. It wasn’t wine, but it would have to do for the moment.

Cullen smiled, “ _ We _ did a pretty good job,” he repeated, then gently clinked his glass against Dorian’s, “I don’t think this is supposed to be about who did what.”

And yet it would have been. Had this gone differently, had Rilienus shown up, Dorian probably would have been fuming that he’d done all the work while the other man whined about wanting to leave. In a perfect world that wouldn’t have happened. In a perfect world he would have been sitting there across from someone who didn’t mind this kind of thing, wanted to more like it, and was genuinely enjoying himself. Only in a perfect world, though.

Except, somehow, he was sitting in front of that very person. On accident, perhaps, but he was. It was strange.

They didn’t say anything for a long moment as they ate, and though Dorian did smile for Cullen’s words and his company he kept his attention focused on his plate. Around them the others laughed and chatted. He was a bit lost in thought, and it wasn’t until he looked up to meet Cullen’s eyes did he realize the other man had been looking at him. Curiously, it seemed. Like he was being studied.

“Do I have something on my face?” Dorian asked as he lifted a napkin to brush over his lips and his mustache.

Cullen shook his head, “No, I...I was just wondering something.”

“Anything in particular?”

“You seem kind of preoccupied,” Cullen began, “and, uh, I was just thinking that you said to the instructor that your plus one wasn’t here. You didn’t plan on being here alone, I take it?”

Well, shit.

“I mean...I should have,” Dorian answered, “this was kind of out of the box for me. I planned it without asking, and uh, the other guy who I bought the ticket for conveniently had something else to do today.”

One of Cullen’s eyebrows rose, “your...boyfriend?” It was a gentle kind of prodding. Exploratory. Not accusing or anything, and asked with that same kind of meandering tone from earlier. But it wasn’t like the usual kind of meandering question. Cullen’s eyes were sincere. Maybe even a little concerned.

He shook his head, “No, no Rilienus isn’t...I mean, it’s not really like that. We’re not together.”

“But you booked a special Date Night cooking class for you both?”

Dorian set his fork down and licked his lips, “I was just, you know, momentary insanity. I don’t know what I was thinking. I know better than that. I was just trying to think of something we could do together that wasn’t just going out for drinks or meeting up to-” He cut himself off from that, and shook his head again, “it’s not like that, is what I’m trying to say. I just didn’t want to waste the money on the ticket, so I came alone.”

Cullen’s gaze lowered just a bit, looked over Dorian’s tie and his shirt and jacket. He was rightly overdressed. It would have looked like quite the date, really, even if it was just him on a date with himself. “Well, uh, he’s missing out. Just so you know,” Cullen said, “and I guess his loss is my gain.”

“Is it?” Dorian asked.

“I don’t know...I thought this was pretty fun.”

Dorian felt Cullen’s knee knock against his own once, as though Cullen were shifting to get comfortable, then again. It didn’t feel like an accident. It felt like  maybe, just  _ maybe _ , Cullen had done it on purpose. And it made a small sound escape Dorian’s lips as he knocked his own knee against Cullen’s back.

“They do say this kind of thing happens for a reason, I guess,” Dorian said, “or so I’m told.”

“Yeah,” Cullen agreed with a nod, “well, I mean, we did make this awesome food. So that’s something. That doesn’t just happen.”

“The recipe may have helped,” Dorian teased, then steeled himself for a moment before he winked.

Cullen blinked twice after that, then chuckled, and picked up his water to sip from. Was that...yes, there was a bit of a blush on Cullen’s cheeks as well. That pale skin was glowing just a bit, and with that mop of golden curls Cullen looked not at all unlike some Chantry angel. He was handsome in a different kind of way than most men Dorian knew: in an easygoing sort of way. That flannel, scruff at his jaw, and gentle nature was completely opposite to the cultivated image of ‘cool’ or ‘attractive’ that most of the men he knew tried for. In that...Cullen seemed to be a good guy that wasn’t trying to be someone he wasn’t.

“You know…” Cullen started again, “they do these kinds of things a lot. I mean, I come to a lot of them. If you were, you know, interested in maybe learning something else?”

Something in Dorian’s chest tightened, and he could feel his heartbeat speed up again. Suddenly he wanted to. Suddenly he couldn’t think of anything better to be doing. For what had to be the third or fourth time, too, he opened his mouth and nothing really came out. That had never happened to him before today. Usually he could just open his mouth and something witty and dazzling would just come out. Something flirtatious and coy. For whatever reason, he couldn’t quite manifest that with Cullen sitting there. For whatever reason he was wanted to be genuine. Real. Not all sparkling veneer and innuendo.

Or maybe just a little innuendo anyway.

“I don’t know, I think I may have peaked with the lamb and these potatoes,” he teased.

That earned him another smile, “Well, we can’t have that,” Cullen teased back. They were both smiling now, and Dorian felt Cullen’s knee knock against his own again.

“And if I wanted to do this again?” Dorian asked, “I’d  _ hate _ to have to cook by myself…”

“I think you could have a willing partner. If you really were interested in doing this again.”

That made his stomach jump a little. Suddenly it was warm in there all over again, and Dorian leaned in just a bit over his plate. Like before, when Cullen had stepped into his space, Dorian rather liked the heat he felt that came off of Cullen. It did something to him, excited him in a way he hadn’t known before, and he wanted more of it. Somehow. Even if it meant coming to another cooking class. He could deal with that.

“I think I could be,” he said softly, “interested in doing this again. With the right partner, I mean.”

“Good to know.”

They ate the rest of their food in comfortable silence. Occasionally Dorian would feel Cullen’s legs knock against his own, and at one point they’d moved so their feet were right up against each other’s. It was funny. Kind of stupid, really, but it was funny and flirty in a way that wasn’t soaked in the idea of abandoning the whole class to go fall into bed somewhere. Instead it was little smiles, chuckles, and grey eyes meeting amber ones. It was sincere and warm. It was...it was everything Dorian wasn’t used to, but in the best way.

The tart came out of the oven just about the time they’d finished putting up the dishes, and as it cooled Dorian leaned over it with his camera so that he could take a picture of it. He’d missed the chance to take a picture of the main meal, but the tart had turned out rather nice looking. Cullen’s big, strong hands were surprisingly delicate if the lattice top was anything to go by. It looked...well, good enough to eat. 

“Good enough for social media?” Cullen asked as he leaned over Dorian’s shoulder.

“And my stomach,” he answered, “this really did turn out awesome.”

“Then we did it right,” Cullen chuckled, “here’s hoping it tastes as good as it looks.”

Cullen was standing just behind him. He was leaned slightly over just as Dorian was, was pressed a bit against his back, and Dorian could all but feel Cullen breathe. He was loathe to move from where he stood, didn’t want to lose the way that felt, so he rested his arms against the counter. “How long until we can try it?”

At that, Cullen nodded toward the others, some of whom were boxing their desserts up to take home, and he shook his head. “Probably about ten minutes or so, so it can set. I think that’s why they’re headed out of here. Don’t want to hang around.”

That gave him pause. “Do you...want to hang out?” Dorian asked.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be right now,” Cullen answered. Dorian felt him straighten back up, and Dorian moved with him so Cullen’s chest was still against his back. Neither of them moved. Neither of them had anywhere else to be, it seemed.

“We can wait, then.”

So they waited. They waited as a some of the others left with desserts in hand, and after the tart had been cooling for what felt like far longer than it needed to for how much Dorian wanted to tuck into it, they grabbed two forks and leaned against the counter as Cullen cut into it. It smelled heavenly. Even though they’d already eaten, Dorian was more than ready to have this. If he were honest with himself, he had a bit of a taste for sweet things. And this whole thing was very...sweet.

Cullen served them up a piece of tart each, and held out a plate for Dorian to take before he grabbed up a fork. He cut into his piece, lifted up the bite, then stopped. He was looking at it for a long moment, then lifted his gaze to meet Dorian’s. “Um...before you try yours,” Cullen prompted, “here.” He held out the fork, then smiled, “try mine.”

It was the same tart. No bite should have been different to another. That said, Cullen was holding out some of his for Dorian to try. That blush was back, and the way Cullen was looking at him made Dorian’s heart pound. Maybe he should have just taken he fork he was offered and try it that way. Maybe he shouldn’t have been watching Cullen’s eyes and taking in just how kind they looked. Maybe that blush shouldn’t have been so alluring. Maybe that smile shouldn’t have made his stomach do flips. Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

He leaned in and let Cullen feed him that piece from his fork. It was, in all honesty, the best thing Dorian had ever tasted. Even if he couldn’t recollect exactly what it tasted like, it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. It tasted like a good conversation felt. It tasted like the feeling he got when someone’s attention was solely focused on him. It tasted sweet and crisp like a kiss when it was snowing outside. It tasted like...fruit and something new beginning.

“Good?” Cullen asked.

“Very,” Dorian answered as he licked his lips. Then it was his turn to cut off a bite and hold it up to Cullen, “now you try.”

Cullen leaned in. Slowly. And he took the bite with his eyes locked on Dorian’s. That right there felt intimate. Perhaps it was the most intimate thing he’d ever done while still wearing clothes. Or, the Maker only knew, maybe it was the most intimate thing he’d ever done in his life. It made his heart race. It made him shiver just a little. Just watching Cullen like that made his whole body and mind feel like this was a bit of a dream.

A smile spread across Cullen’s face, and he laughed as he chewed. “It is  _ very _ good,” he agreed, “really, really good.”

They stayed like that for another moment. Quiet. Just enjoying it. It was nice. Better than nice. Somehow this day had been so much better and more than he’d ever expected it could have been. 

“Did you guys want to box up the rest of that to take home?” a voice asked, and they both turned to see the instructor standing there. She’d left them alone pretty much the entire time, but was standing there now with a box in hand.

“Absolutely,” Cullen answered as he took it from her, “thank you. This was...uh…”

“Really great,” Dorian supplied, “a great time.”

“Always glad to bring people together,” the instructor said, then paused before she pointed between the two of them, “I mean to cook. And inspire you to do some of this at home.” With that, she smiled and took a step backward, “hopefully we’ll see you guys again soon.”

The tart fit nicely in that box, and both Dorian and Cullen headed out together. Their steps fell in time together, and they walked nearly shoulder to shoulder out toward the parking lot. Dorian really didn’t want this to end. The class had been a few hours, hours that he’d figured would be wasted when he’d left his apartment that morning, but he didn’t want it to be over. He’d have done this all day if he could have. All day and all night because it had been  _ fun _ . 

Outside the weather was a cold and grey. It felt heavy like maybe there might be rain coming. The clouds looked full and low, and there was a bit of wind that ruffled Cullen’s hair as they stood on the sidewalk. Maker, Dorian didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to go home and that be that. He’d liked how all this felt. He’d like that it felt like there was something new brewing in that kitchen. Now, though, it felt like ti was ending before it even started. Unless, of course, they did decide to partner up for another class like this. He’d meant it when he’d said that.

“So…” Dorian began, “I...uh…” Suddenly he felt a bit awkward. That was weird and new, and he didn’t like it.

“I had a really good time cooking with you,” Cullen said, then smiled, “and I’m going to hold you to it that we do this again.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah, you know...this...or maybe something else?” Cullen offered.

“Something else like?” Dorian asked.

Cullen shrugged, “How about I call you and we figure that out? Maybe we do this again and not have to pay for the class? Like...at my place? Or yours, if you wanted?”

By then Dorian’s heart was beating a mile a minute. Was Cullen asking him out? Or rather, was he at least saying he wanted to do this again? A search of those amber eyes yielded nothing but that same sincerity. Cullen meant it. So yes, yes he was indeed saying he wanted to do this again.

“Well, I hear I can make a pretty mean tart now,” Dorian said with a smile, “so you have that to look forward to.”

Cullen nodded, and he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, “why don’t you give me your number? I’ll text you maybe tomorrow and we could plan something out?”

Dorian’s smile grew, “Absolutely,” he answered, and pulled out his phone as well so they could exchange numbers. His fingers were actually shaking just a bit from the nerves he felt. Good nerves, of course, but nerves nonetheless. 

But then it was time to go. Time to go back home and get on with whatever it was he was going to do for the rest of the day. Not that he wanted to now, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. Asking for more time with Cullen just seemed selfish. Surely the man had other things to do like...saving lives or rescuing cats from trees or helping old ladies cross the street. Heroic things that men like Cullen did.

“I’ll talk to you later?” Cullen asked. His voice sounded hopeful, and that made Dorian hopeful.

“Yeah, of course,” Dorian said, then looked down at the box he held that the tart was in, “um...you should take this. Give it to your discerning brigade.”

“No. You keep it. It can be something to remember me by.”

Dorian started laughing then, “I don’t think I’ll need a  _ tart _ for that.”

“Keep it, Dorian,” Cullen said as he started to walk, “or save it, and we can share it.”

That sounded like an  _ immensely _ good idea to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I said I wanted to have this done by Valentine's Day, but I've had the last two weeks from hell. So enjoy this. I worked hard on it.
> 
> You can always find me on Tumblr! @sallyamongpoison


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